Beautiful Scars
by BlackrockCat
Summary: Some scars are big and some are small. Some hurt more than others, but every scar is beautiful... and each one has a story to tell. (Fluff and lemons featuring Riven x Talon. One-shot, rated M for language and smut).
_Authors Notes: Dear readers, I know it's been a while, but I'm back… and I come bearing gifts! Well… if you like fluffy, smutty action and Riven x Talon, that is. I hope you enjoy this piece and I hope to tackle some more chapters of Undersong in the near future, once I get my creative juices flowing again. Till then, please enjoy Beautiful Scars._

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She sat there humming to herself, her slender fingers working to free the tiny butterfly clasps all tangled up in her matted silver tresses. Down they tumbled about her face and brow, her damp feathery locks catching the light like snowflakes in the dawn. Her clothing lay strewn about the tiles on the bathhouse floor – diaphanous leggings and a sleeveless training halter – all regulation black with faded gold and crimson trim. Instead she'd found herself a fluffy white towel to wrap her bare figure in, the flimsy cotton hanging precariously from her breasts and only barely managing to cover the scars on her upper thighs.

 _Scars…_

Riven sighed as she set the last of the hair clasps down, her fingers moving to trace the faded mesh of cuts and burns marring her biceps. So stark they seemed against her sun-weathered complexion – all faded and star-shaped – shining like constellations on a parfait canvas. Her brooding touch continued to glide upwards to her shoulders, passing over old welts and new bruises alike. It was to be expected. Even before she'd joined the ranks of the Crimson Elite, Riven had heard all the stories about them. Tales of their brutality in battle, their clandestine accomplishments, and of course… their infamous training regimen. Brutal. Unforgiving. Torturous, even. But there was no other way. That was the price one paid to be counted amongst the sharpest blades in all of Noxus. They'd hammered it into her head over and over, so many times before: better to bleed now than on the battlefield.

Riven frowned as she gazed into the sullen eyes of her own reflection, her lips pursing to blow a few stray strands of silver from the bridge of her nose. The girl staring back at her seemed so… tired. Morose. Her brow was bronzed and lips cracked, with dark circles threatening to embrace the rims of her thick lashes. Her fingers curled into her skin. She hadn't always been like this. She'd felt… pretty…

 _Once._

Riven winced when her hand happened to slip along the bottom of her shoulder blade. Slowly she retracted her fingers to see their tips now stained a deep, inky red. Cursing, the girl reached for the medicine kit under the counter. No wonder her arm had been so sore all day. Must have been during one of the live drills… and in all the heat and commotion, she hadn't noticed until now. Her brow furrowed as she reached back again to blindly map out the razor-thin ridge of bloodied flesh marring her skin. The injury felt fresh and thankfully rather shallow – not exactly a flesh wound as it were, but by no means career-limiting either. Unfortunately for her however, it sat squarely under the wing of her scapula. If left untreated she'd risk losing some range of motion in her arm. At the very least, she wouldn't be able to swing a sword at full speed for a while.

"Riven?"

A deep voice called out from somewhere behind, cutting through her reverie like a hot knife through butter. A familiar voice at that, yet even still Riven seemed to wheel about like a rabbit on roller skates, nearly jumping out of her towel in the process. Her scarlet gaze rose to meet the face of a pale, masculine silhouette standing in the foyer before her. He was clad in nothing but a pair of tight boxers and a dark ribbed undershirt, the fabric clinging for dear life to every sinew of his upper form. A wet towel hung from his shoulders. His damp tresses, normally swept behind his ears in some sort of ponytail or bun, lay in a matted mess along the edges of his jawline.

"Talon!" Riven cried out, her breath nearly hitching in the back of her throat. Staring at the man's attire suddenly seemed to remind herself of her _own_ state of dress. Blushing furiously she grabbed at the hem of her towel, clamping her arms across her chest. "W-what the hell are you doing here? You startled me, jerk!"

Talon stood there patting the back of his head with his towel, a furrowed look overtaking his amber gaze. "I was showering. What else would I be doing… _in the showers?"_

Riven's cheeks caught fire and her gaze darted off to the side. "Well you're finished now, right? So go! Get out!"

"Alright, alright…" His towel slipped to the floor and he grumbled before turning. "First though… what about _that?"_ He motioned with a casual flick of his chin to her injured shoulder blade. "Hurt yourself again?" The assassin yawned and plopped himself down on a nearby bench. He patted the space in front of him, the tendons in his forearms flexing as he did so. "Come here. Let me take a look."

"W-what?" Riven stammered now, backing away. "T-this little thing? It's fine, really..."

"Doesn't _look_ fine." Talon inhaled sharply and rubbed his jawline. "You're taking a shower right? Shouldn't get it wet. I'll dress it, at the very least."

"Talon…" Her gaze fell to the floor as she turned her back to him, hugging herself under her breasts. "You know I… I'm not wearing any-"

"I don't mind."

"B-but _I do!"_ She spun on her heels, her gaze narrowing sharply. "It's just… embarrassing…"

 _"Fine."_ Before Riven could utter another word, Talon raised both arms overhead and stripped off his own shirt, tossing it emphatically on the floor beside them. "There. Now we're _both_ naked. Happy?" He cocked his head at her and scowled. "Now sit down and shut up." The assassin growled as he yanked the blushing girl between his legs, forcefully plopping her bottom on the seat in front of him. Before she could even think of protesting any further, Riven felt the pads of his fingers wrap around her shoulder, lightly tracing the outer edges of her wound. Riven tensed at the strange sensation, another fresh swatch of crimson bubbling to the surface of her skin.

"Talon wait," she squeaked, trying desperately to keep her poise. "Do you… even know what you're doing?"

"No talking." He rummaged through the contents of a small medicine kit, his molten gaze staying fixed on her all the while. "And yes. When you've been stabbed as many times as I have…" Slowly but surely his rifling came to a halt and he produced a small cylindrical vial filled to the brim with some kind of gelatinous green fluid. With his teeth he worked the stopper free and spit it out on the floor before allowing the contents to dribble into the palm of his hand. The overpowering scent of alcohol and thyme wafted into Riven's nostrils mere moments later, the smell oddly comforting in a way. "It doesn't look _too_ serious, but it's definitely leaving a mark. That's for sure." His pale lips pursed into a sigh. "Really though… how the _hell_ … did you even manage to do this to yourself? Every time, I swear. Nothing's changed since we were young."

"Are you _askin_ g me? Because I thought you told me to shut up."

"I did. Now sit still. This might sting a little."

Riven exhaled then nodded, clutching her towel as she tensed in his grasp. That was it though. When his hand dabbed at the wound to slather it with ointment, she neither cursed nor cried out - not even a wince. Her fingers may have curled into the ruffled cotton of her towel-turned-dress, but that was it. Pain was nothing new to her, after all.

"You'll have to take it easy for a bit, if you want this to heal correctly." Talon sighed as he moved to dress the wound with several strips of gauze. "That means no swordplay, at least for a few days. Got it?"

"Got it _,"_ Riven intoned as she echoed his words back to him, with more than a teensy bit of petulance thrown in for good measure. Her prickly look soon took an even more sour turn however, as her brow narrowed and the corners of her features curved into a bit of a frown. "I supposed nothing _has_ changed between us, has it?"

Talon raised an eyebrow, but continued to work on her shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She she snapped her head forward, her cheeks flushing with heat. "Well, I-I mean… look at us. I'm still a klutz… and you're still cleaning up after me… always licking my wounds."

"I don't mind."

"That's not the-" Riven clenched her jaw shut. "Can we just… talk about something else? Have you decided on what you're wearing tonight?"

"For what?"

"The Festival of Elîm? It ends tonight, doesn't it?"

"If you say so."

"Seriously? They're holding a masquerade party at _your_ house, Talon!" Riven's head almost whipped about like a swivel on a stick, incredulous, her silver tresses flying every which way. "Why do you think I'm in such a rush to get ready? Your sisters are _hosting,_ for heaven's sake. They've been planning it for weeks!"

Her dark-haired companion seemed altogether unmoved by the revelation, choosing instead to rub his own jawline in awkward silence.

Riven rolled her eyes.

"Don't tell me… you're not familiar with the tale of Elîm." She spoke in a rather hushed tone now, disapproval practically dripping from every word. "She was a Noxian warrior-queen who lived many centuries ago? The whole saga's actually quite popular with children, y'know. Don't you remember all those books back at the orphanage?" Riven stopped short. "Oh. I forgot… you couldn't read back then, could you?"

"If I say yes, will you stop bringing it up?"

"The story goes that Lady Elîm happened to fall in love with an unknown soldier on the eve of a grand masquerade. But because the rules of the ball forbade the removal of one's mask under any circumstance, their identities remained a secret from one another and their love went unrequited." She glanced back over her shoulder. "That's why it's tradition now to hold a masquerade party on the final day of the festival."

"That's… quite legitimately the _worst_ story I've ever-"

Riven elbowed him in the gut. "The legend says that on this night, of any pair dancing when the clock strikes twelve… if each can guess the other's name without removing their masks, that means the love they share is pure. They're soul mates, destined to be together for all eternity." Riven's chest swelled as she exhaled. "Isn't that… just so-"

"Stupid?"

"Romantic!" Riven snapped at Talon, her brow knitting sharply. "Of course you'd say that though. You wouldn't know romance if it bit you on the ass." A scowl crossed her lips. "I bet _your_ idea of a romantic night probably involves some combination of throwing knives, hookers and gin." She heaved the heaviest of sighs and her shoulders slumped forward. Neither spoke again for a few moments.

"So…" Talon intoned after the long pause, still using his palms to smooth out any remaining creases in her bandages. "Do you… have… a _date_ for this thing or…"

"No." She drew in her knees, burying her chin between them as she spoke. Her gaze seemed to waver under the warm glow of the lamplights, glistening like two uncut rubies hidden beneath a tangled mass of flowing silver. "Even if I _did_ … I-I'm not exactly 'soul mate' material now, am I?"

Talon clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. "Why would you say that?"

"Because _real_ gentlemen prefer _ladies_ , Talon… women with dainty figures, proper manners, tact and guile and…" She grit her teeth and folded her arms along her shins, tracing circles with her fingernails. "Pale, perfect skin. I've none of those things. Sure, I can swing a sword around and knock back a shot with the best of them, but… I'm no lady, and I'll never be one. Not with all these… scars… and old wounds to lick."

A silence fell upon them. No sounds resonated in the bathhouse now, save for the hiss of hot steam condensing on brass fixtures and water droplets pooling under mirrored sills. The only movement thereafter came from Talon's hands as they fell from Riven's shoulders, moving instead to trace the star-shaped marks marring her skin.

"I think your scars are beautiful."

Riven faltered for a moment and her eyes widened. All of a sudden she'd become quite keenly aware of the way Talon's breath seemed to be dancing down the nape of her neck. The heat caressed her spine and tailbone, sending all sorts of tiny shivers through her body. "No, they're not," she managed to squeak under her breath, shifting clumsily in his clutches. A flush of heady warmth rose to flood her features and her crimson-flecked gaze began to waver even more so than before. "My scars are ugly. Repulsive. Nothing but reminders of the past and all the mistakes I've made."

"You're wrong." Talon leaned in to her, his voice soft and subdued. Even then his words seemed to carry with them a weight… a rumble like thunder, more felt than heard. "Scars remind us of the past, yes… but they also show us we had the strength to survive it." One of his hands – heavily marked itself – began to snake its way about her midsection, the action drawing a faint whimper from her lips. His forearm now formed a bar against her navel and the flimsy cotton clinging to it. His jawline too, dotted with the stubble of a five o'clock shadow, found a place of its own to rest upon the back of her head. "Every scar is beautiful – proof of healing – and every scar has a story to tell."

Thoroughly flustered now, the blushing little bundle of frosted curls could barely manage to keep the butterflies from swarming in the pit of her stomach, much less her heart from pounding a hole straight through her chest. Her back stiffened and she shifted against him once more as she struggled to gain some semblance of composure. "W-what about… _yours_ then?" Her hand alighted upon his fist and the smattering of discoloration marring his knuckles – faded bruises he'd always had, even back when they were young. "Tell me the story behind your scars."

Talon only grunted at first. His hold on her grew ever more insistent and yet, somehow never quite fully forceful. She could feel his heart beating against her spine with a slow and steady rhythm. The hard planes of his chest slid along her own glistening back muscles, his touch threatening to set fire to every synapse in her body if they lingered like that for much longer.

"I earned these before the orphanage," he whispered into her tresses, "on the streets. I fought all the time back then. Remember?" His embrace grew stronger. "Nothing was given to us, only ever taken. I had to learn to be strong… to protect what was mine and never let go."

Riven shivered with every breath either one took. Her eyes struggled to remain open as tears pooled under each lid, further blurring her vision. Her towel had already begun to slip from the curve of her heavy breasts; friction and gravity conspired to drag it down and reveal the rest. "What about this one?" Riven's fingertips dabbled against the forearm wrapped around her waist, her nails tracing a gentle curve along a faded scar that seemed to run from Talon's wrist to just under the nook of his elbow. Her voice had taken on a sort of husky quality to it now, each syllable soft and sultry like the hum of a summer shower far off in the distance.

"Knife fight outside the _Blade and Bunny_ ," Talon snickered. His voice had changed too. "I'll never forget that night."

A tiny gasp escaped Riven's lips when the man found a sensitive spot to nibble upon between sentences – the delicate crease of her upturned jawline. The gasp soon turned to a groan though as each syllable he spoke seemed to vibrate against her skin like the purr of a housecat. She twisted in his embrace and turned to gaze up at him, her hips practically straddling his waist in the process. Such a dark aura this man possessed, so heavy with sorrow and sin. It all but bled from the edges of his silhouette, swallowing her world and enveloping her in his musk and scent. He'd always been like that. An enigma… always rough around the edges and yet somehow at the same time… so tender as well. "W-why?" She whispered back voicelessly.

Talon only closed his eyes in response, cocking his head to the side as he leaned in.

Their lips met and time stood still. His touch was faint and yet somehow deeply sensual at the same time. Riven whimpered when her lips disappeared beneath his a moment later, the sound of her moaning swallowed up at his insistence, her cheeks flushed with crimson red. Tears streamed freely from the corners of her eyes and yet, for the life of her she couldn't fathom why. The only thoughts circling her mind's eye now were those of Talon's touch and scent. The way he took his time exploring her mouth, decorating her palate with the softest of velvet brush strokes. Without breaking their kiss he embraced her and leaned in further, her breasts warbling against the hard lines of his chest, nipples kissing his ribs. Only after what seemed like an eternity did their lips part, each panting heavily with a thin string of saliva still connecting their tongues together.

Riven's towel now lay in a pool at their feet.

"Talon…" She whispered softly as she buried her face in his neck, still struggling to find her breath. One hand lost itself in his chocolate locks while the other descended upon the lines of his shoulder, her nails ever so gently digging in.

"Your scars are beautiful," he whispered as he leaned forward to lay her down on the bench. " _You_ are beautiful." His hands cupped the shapely mounds of her buttocks, squeezing them in such a way that her legs would have no choice but to wrap themselves around his waist. "I never want to hear you say otherwise." Another veiled whisper tumbled along her skin and suddenly the full weight of his form came crashing down upon her.

Riven gasped. Something warm and rock hard was throbbing against her inner thigh. Her mind lay in a daze, her eyes only half-open. She struggled to focus on the sound of her own beating heart… or perhaps it was his? They were so close now, it was impossible to tell where one body ended and the other began. "Talon…" Her brow drew together slightly, her expression pleading. One hand fell even further south, nails tracing his chest and chiseled core… down… down on their way to the growing bulge pressing into her thigh. Slowly she took hold and squeezed. Her tongue lapped at his neck as she strained and with one final tug Riven shirked the last of his clothing aside.

Talon stiffened and dug his fingers further into her skin. Her bare bottom dimpled under his grip, forcing her to bury her face against his side one more time. It was all she could do to keep from crying out. Her own hold on his member seemed emboldened by this however, and before he knew it, she was rocking her hips back and forth against him, kneading and stroking his shaft all the while. Her thumb massaged his crown every time she crested over the head, her nail toying with a beadlet of pre-seed dribbling from his tip. Talon responded in kind, rearing back and hooking his arms under her caramel thighs to spreads her legs as far as they would go. Back and forth he pistoned, teasing her glistening lips with the length of his shaft, until her grip on reality would hold no further.

"D-don't do that…" Riven bit her lip as she half-whimpered and half-chuckled, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Talon could only smirk back at her now as he leaned in for the kill, answering her protest with several little nibbles on her throat and under her chin. Every time his teeth sank in Riven moaned, begging for relief. "Please Talon…"

"Please what?" He was toying with her now, his mouth gently hovering on the cusp of her earlobe. He shunted his hips to bring her sex in line. The very tip of his head teased the gap between her thighs, throbbing and ticking in time with the beat of his heart.

"Dance with me," Riven whimpered and arched her back, toes curling. "Please?"

Her hips bucked when he entered her. She cried out at first as blistering pain peeled away like a tangerine skin, only to reveal the sweet, juicy nectar of pleasure coursing underneath. Riven bit her lip, feeling helpless as her inner walls clenched… fighting, straining with every stroke to allow him deeper passage. Soon they settled into a steady rhythm, with each thrust threatening to tear another cry from her throat. Another whimper. Another moan. She could feel her own body's urge to cling to him and so her legs lifted, wrapping themselves around his waist as tight as they possibly could. Her mind was swimming, just like her sex, each drowning in a sea of lust and sheen. She couldn't hold on much longer.

"Riven…" a groan soon escaped Talon's lips as his intensity began to match her desire. "I-I…I'm…" His body went rigid and she felt him spasm inside of her. The second he came, her own world seemed to explode right along with him. Riven mewled; the fingers gripping Talon's shoulders broke skin. Her back arched from the bench and her mouth hung open, breasts heaving to and fro. She could feel him now – _all of him_ – still inside of her. Hot, sticky seed coated her insides, flooding her furthest reaches with warmth.

 _His_ warmth.

 _"Fuck."_ Talon grimaced and slumped forward atop her warbling breasts, his sex still buried deep within hers. Sweat glistened down their silhouettes as he turned to face her, his fingers losing themselves in the river of her damp tresses.

Riven giggled.

 _"Fuck_ is right. I think you're gonna need another shower after this." The only action she could take now was to nuzzle his jawline, her lips trailing his neck and planting the sweetest string of kisses along the scars in their wake. Such beautiful scars he had.


End file.
